41. The Boy Who Transferred to Our Class Was an Angel (Fuyuhara POV 2)

The peace shattered with one line from the health room's resident ghoul, Old Man Yamazaki.

"Fuyuhara-sensei."

"Oh—yes, Yamazaki-sensei. Something up?"

I'd been scrolling my phone in the staff room when his voice hit from behind. I hid it fast, but he'd clocked me.

"No boy-hunting in the staff room. You're not a student anymore."

"S-Sorry."

Our chat pinged nearby ears—phones vanished around me. Even my older colleagues were desperate. But nobody crosses Yamazaki, the ancient health teacher haunting this school since its founding. He's the go-to for boy-related messes—most of us owe him once or twice. Me especially—student screw-ups still hang over me. I bow low.

How old is this geezer anyway? He looked the same when I enrolled as a kid—same towering frame, same gravel voice, same intimidation factor. Must've been a lady-killer back in the day. How many kids does he have?

Ugh, I want kids. Not bank-frozen sperm—fresh, live stuff from a hot young stud.

"You listening? I hear a boy transferred into your class."

"Uh, yeah. Miyagi."

"Did he take the special class at his old school?"

"…I think so?"

That awkward sex-ed thing—boys only. Usually done freshman year, and Miyagi's a sophomore. He's probably had it.

"You didn't confirm?"

"Er… no."

Brace for a lecture—but nope.

"I hear it was a sudden transfer. Fair enough. Let's have him take it here, just in case. No harm in doubling up, but missing it's a problem."

"Oh, okay."

No scolding? Score.

"Tomorrow after school, career guidance room. If he's busy, we'll reschedule."

"Got it. I'll tell Miyagi."

Next day, I called him in. Yamazaki, Miyagi, and me—special class, three of us. I sat beside Yamazaki; Miyagi parked right in front of me. Boys usually face the male teacher—standard move. Yamazaki raised an eyebrow.

…Maybe Miyagi likes me.

Not gonna lie, a young guy's favor feels nice. He's stupidly gorgeous, too—up close like this, I swear I catch a whiff of that fresh male scent. Shit, no—teacher here, student there. Not a sex object. Can't look at him that way. Forbidden.

I handed him the sex-ed pamphlet. Yamazaki droned through the rundown—thank god. Me explaining this solo? Hell no. These days, just being alone with a boy in a room sparks rumors—add sex talk, and it's harassment claims waiting to happen. Male health teachers exist for this crap.

Listening to the two guys, I caught it—Miyagi's reaction when Yamazaki said "intercourse." He shot back, "You mean sex?"

Sex. Three little letters, filthy as hell from a pretty boy's mouth. Yamazaki blinked—caught off guard. Miyagi doubled down: "It's important, so I don't want to mix up terms." Fair point. Yamazaki and I nodded, impressed.

No shame, just precision—he trusts us as teachers, as adults. Back when I was a kid, I thought thirty- and forty-somethings were wise, seasoned. Then you grow up, join the grind, and realize—nah, not much changes. Adults aren't magically noble. The good ones were always good; the rest just fake it. Me? A hollow shell, playing the part here.

Yamazaki wrapped up. "That's it for today. Review the pamphlet. Questions? Ask me or Fuyuhara-sensei."

"Yeah, Miyagi," I added. "Don't stew alone. No shame—lean on us adults."

We capped it with that. I moved to leave with him, but a slip-up earned me an hour of Yamazaki's preaching.

Teacher or not, getting chewed out in the guidance room was still a nuisance.